


maybe nobody loved you when you were young

by beepbedeep



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, fix-it??, leah and fatin liiiiiiike each other!!!!, like kind of, looooots of forgiveness!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: Looking back, it was all too easy to fall in love with her, Leah’s not nearly strong enough to survive the infectious laugh, and warm hands, and whip-smart smile, but thestayingin love, well that she’s pretty proud of.
Relationships: Dot Campbell & Fatin Jadmani, Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke
Comments: 12
Kudos: 169





	maybe nobody loved you when you were young

When Leah sees Fatin at the airport her heart sinks. (Or skips a beat, but who’s counting.) Out of all the people in her tiny, weird school _Fatin Jadmani_ is the last person she’d expect to be here – ready for a long weekend of #girlpower #girlbosses #girlssupportgirls and the other eighteen overused hashtags Leah read on the pamphlet during the car ride over. But there she is, shiny hair, skinny jeans (for an airplane!), fancy luggage and all, in her full Fatin glory, and Leah doesn’t think her eyes could physically roll back further in her head than they are right now. At the gate they make eye contact for a second before flicking away at the same time. When they get on the plane Leah goes as far back as she can, only realizing later that all the other girls are sitting in pairs, and if Fatin were anyone else Leah might feel bad for abandoning her like that, but she’s pretty sure the other girl can hold her own, and before she starts to feel too bad Jennette – no, _Linh_ – swoops in next to Nora and Rachel sits down (with an audible sigh) next to Fatin so if Leah wanted to spend another three hours playing the look-at-me-wait-don’t game with Fatin, well, her chance is gone. 

(The thing is, Leah never would have expected to see Fatin here because, out of all the people Leah knows, she’s like the _most_ self-assured person Leah’s ever seen, at school, with everyone Leah knows, she’s always _totally_ in control, like Fatin _owns herself completely_. It’s only later, whispered and then screamed in the middle of the night, that Leah learns about her parents, about the cello, how Fatin has had strings puppeteering her every move for as long as she can remember that Leah will finally understand how Fatin needs the breathing room just as much as the rest of them. Gretchen picked her broken girls well, pretty things with the shiniest, sharpest edges and Fatin pulls out her knives just as fast as the rest of them.)

The incredible thing is, apart from a few (admittedly intense) battles that stem from hunger, or pain, or tension from all the pre-island _shit_ they’ve waded through, Leah thinks everyone gets along pretty well. (At least until things get a little too convenient and she falls way too far into her own mind.) She hasn’t had a lot of friends before, definitely nothing like this large and surprisingly cohesive group, and sooner than she expects the familiar flow of their togetherness starts to feel like home. Leah’s never understood how other people can feel like home before this – she loves her family, and Ian, and she thought she loved Jeff – but none of those people ever felt like a substitution for four walls and a roof. But out here, in the literal middle of nowhere, somehow Shelby’s songs block out the rain, Dot’s warm shoulder bumping hers keeps the wind at bay, Martha’s laugh shores up the roof, and Rachel’s small smile when she doesn’t think anyone is looking turns the campfire into a furnace. (and Fatin, Fatin is _everywhere_ around Leah, in the brick and mortar, built into the foundation, swimming through the air freshener. Fatin curls around Leah at night, face scrunched tight against the outside world, and all Leah can feel is the way she used to fall asleep on long car rides, lulled by the radio, gentle bumping, and unrelenting warmth, back when she totally trusted her parents to keep her safe. 

(It’s Dot who figures it out first, some late afternoon when she and Fatin are sprawled out and fantasizing about all the food they’ll eat once they’re rescued, _no one has to be anything other than who they are here. No less crazy, no less intense, no less angry, no less passionate, or devoted, or controlling. It’s not always fun, sure, but it’s real. Turns out all that stuff is easier to forgive than we thought._ Months later, when they are fully and truly home Leah will think about Dot’s words nightly, remind herself that she can’t be as honest with everyone from home, and whenever she sees the girls again – her girls – the soles of her feet will relax because none of them have to hold back, all of them are loved. Here they are still are, forgiving each other, over and over again, and it never takes too long.)

It’s hard to pinpoint when Leah’s heart starts clenching when Fatin appears, laughing with Dot or teasing Martha or (the best thing) gently pushing hair off Leah’s shoulder. It’s not clear cut, nothing like yesterday-it-was-fine-but-today-I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-kissing-her. It’s more that one day Fatin wakes up before Leah and when Leah’s eyes finally open her skin _aches_ for a person who should _be there_ but is poking what could be breakfast with Toni instead. And then she wants to smile whenever Fatin does, and it gets hard to breath when Fatin saunters over and winks before asking a question (like she does to everyone). All Leah knows is that when they’re all around the campfire and Fatin flops onto the ground with her head in Leah’s lap (feet poking Dot’s shoulder or occasionally Martha’s leg) Leah feels _full_ , like someone injected her with carbonation and she doesn’t want to let any of the bubbles escape. 

(Looking back, it was all too easy to fall in love with her, Leah’s not nearly strong enough to survive the infectious laugh, and warm hands, and whip-smart smile, but the _staying_ in love, well that she’s pretty proud of.)

(Further back, Leah and Fatin actually _have_ spent time together, a fact Fatin reminds Leah of one morning when everyone is talking about the worst things that happened to them in middle school. Leah nods, _I remember_ , because how could she ever forget? They tell the story back and forth, like the volleyball Leah has never been very good at. 

_8th grade bus ride._

_You were reading-_

_A graphic novel. Because Ian wasn’t there._

_I read over your shoulder._

_And you liked it._

_Air and space museum was pretty boring though._

_Yeah, he didn’t miss much._

_Do you still have your magnet?_

_Remember when Becca ran into the-_

_God yeah. I felt so bad for her._

_We had a good time though, right?_

_Yeah, it was a good day._

_A good day?_

_A great day, Rilke._

Leah had looked for Fatin the next day, not listened to a thing Ian had tried to say, but Fatin never hangs out at school, _in and out like the cello prodigy my mother wants_ , and Leah assumes the whole day was just a blip, a weird outcome of being thirteen and sitting next to a girl who actually did shop at Forever 21. Turns out if it’s a blip Leah’s reliving the chance of a lifetime.)

They all lose each other, for a minute there. In that dark collection of rooms, trapped like animals, unsure if they’re ever going to get home, if they’ll die like _this_ , not starving on an island but swallowed up by a woman who never stopped to consider them as people, isolated and alone. Leah loses it, like for _real_ , there’s no one to pull her back, no one to grab her hand with a gentle _Rilke, I’m losing you_ , and every night as Leah stares at the ceiling she thinks about Fatin, the way she breathes when she falls asleep, the way her mouth falls a little bit open, and just, _no. No. They don’t die like this._ It’s Fatin’s room she finds first on her escape, almost by accident, but nothing about it feels coincidental when Fatin’s flying across the room in two-seconds flat, collapsing into Leah’s arms, and tilting her lips up to meet Leah’s in what has to be the best _thank you for saving me_ kiss of all time. 

(The sun is warm, and Leah can feel the heat on the back of her neck as she swings her feet against the metal of the too-tall stools Shelby suggested out when Leah’s parents were “updating the kitchen” because _c’mon guys! They’re fun! It’s good to get your feet off the ground sometimes_. She loves the summers like this, when everyone has time to visit, when they spend weeks at a time in the same state, the same houses, switching between Leah and Fatin’s with a kind of choreographed ease. They get all the space they want as a we’re-so-sorry-for-putting-you-in-the-care-of-someone-who-almost-killed-you-but-hey-she-seemed-nice present and Leah won’t admit it, but having all her favorite people in one city really does feel like a gift. Last week she told Fatin how she wasn’t sure if their summers-together tradition would carry into next year, into college, but now she hears Martha stirring in the living room and Shelby giggling upstairs and she knows this isn’t going to end. Sure enough, Fatin stumbles into the kitchen a few minutes later, half asleep but still surprisingly alert, draping herself across Leah’s lap and kissing her cheek before shutting her eyes again, breath soft against Leah’s neck. In another couple of minutes Toni will run down the stairs, followed closely by Rachel and they’ll start making breakfast – with wildly different ideas, obviously – but that’ll just mean there will be enough for lunch, and Dot will grumble about cleaning up the kitchen, and they’ll all do it together, because _they will never be alone again_. Gretchen didn't fix them, the island didn't make anything better, but _somehow_ they know how to put each other back together, somehow they are all healing. 

But for now Leah wraps her arm even more tightly around Fatin’s waist, leaning in to smell the floral scent of her girlfriend’s shampoo, and smiles, _things are ok here_.)


End file.
